


The Feel of You

by Miss_uk_writer



Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-03-29 06:42:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 10,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13921530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_uk_writer/pseuds/Miss_uk_writer
Summary: 26 snippets of Franky and Bridget's life together, all inspired by a different emotion.





	1. Chapter 1

**Affection**

_Noun_

_1\. Fond attachment, devotion, or love._

_2\. Emotion; feeling; sentiment; the emotional realm of love._

 

Franky Doyle did not do affection. Never had, and probably never would.

Before her prison sentence, her affectionate side went as far as staying until the morning in whoever's bed she had spent the previous night in, simply for round two. Or three. She kissed and fucked on the first date, that was an affectionate display was it not? But she  _never_  got attached, as attachment always ended in heartache. Her parents had taught her that from their own actions.

She had her fair share of conquests in prison. Kim; Jodie; others in between. It was never affection on Franky's part, more of a plaything to help pass the time. Sure, she was fond of her long term 'girlfriends' inside, but nothing lasted forever and over time everyone moved on. She'd never fallen in love, always intentionally (deep down she knew she couldn't handle another broken heart like the one that her father had left behind). She loved Boomer, of course she did, but not romantically. Not affectionately. Boomer was a friend, the very best she'd ever had and she loved her with all she had.

But then she met Bridget.  _Gidget._

It wasn't love at first sight, she didn't even think it was love just yet. But if it was heading that way, Franky didn't think she would stop the feeling.

It had been 3 and a half weeks since her release and there Bridget was, the hot girl in the hot car. And from that day, everything changed.

No longer did she shy away from expressing any kind of emotion. She left light kisses on the blonde's shoulder, just because. She held her close at night because she craved the feeling she felt inside when her woman was close. She clutched the smaller hand in hers sat on the sofa, because she couldn't bear to be apart from her. She made love, not fucking, exploring Bridget's body with such intricate detail.

It turned out after all that Franky Doyle had mastered the art of affection, and for her former psychologist, she would display it, always.


	2. Boredom

**Boredom**

/ˈbɔːdəm/

_Noun_

_The state of feeling bored._

 

Franky was going stir crazy. There was something brewing in the prison and getting to the bottom of Jodie's shit was getting, well, boring now. She craved some sort of mental stimulation, a meaningful conversation. Her parole was approaching, but it was still too far. She had her appointment with Bridget though today, she wondered if she could push some of her buttons for her own entertainment.

She had to tread carefully with the blonde psychologist, though. Franky was attracted to her, probably a little bit too much for her own good. And if she wasn't mistaken, Bridget was a little to her too. She sashayed into her office, observing Bridget's body language and demeanor, trying to judge how this next hour would pass. But Bridget could read her like a book, and she felt the restlessness in Franky.

"What's worrying you?" She asked the brunette.

Franky pouted.

"Nothing's worrying me. What have I got to complain about?" Came the sarcastic response. She was slouched in her chair, one hand on her head for support. "I have the same conversation with the same dickheads every day, and then at night, I can replay it all over again in my head. Everything's fuckin' awesome."

Bridget looked at Franky, a little too serious for her liking. "Well, i'm not surprised you feel like that. Prison's a boring place, especially for a smart woman like you."

"You think I'm smart, do ya?"

"Course I do." Franky looked up at Bridget, into those blue eyes. She wanted to get lost in them, forget this place. She knew it was a dangerous game but she just couldn't help it. The attraction was there, on both parts.

"So let's talk about you."

"Nice try," Bridget smirked, pausing momentarily. She had sensed Franky wasn't up for much talk about herself today, so she attempted to deflect the attention onto Bridget. What Franky didn't know what that Bridget  _did_  want to talk about herself, to tell the tattooed inmate more about her. But she was already starting to breach professional boundaries by thinking about her long after their sessions ended.

Franky got up and paced slowly towards where Bridget was sitting. "We're not here to talk about Ferguson, are we?"

"No, we're not," came the reply, as the blonde shifted in her chair.

"Or about you..." Franky was grinning like a Cheshire Cat, enjoying having the upper hand. She lowered herself down slightly and looked the psychologist square in the eyes, lowering her voice a little. "Or about why you're wearing that new shade of lipstick today. It suits you by the way, how does it taste?"

Bridget huffed and broke away from the green-eyed gaze, half embarrassed, half not knowing how she should react. The brunette was making her heart thump and she felt flustered and confused. Never had a patient brought out a reaction like this in her before, in 20-odd years of practice. She crossed her legs and Franky continued to speak in hushed tones.

"Or about why you cross your legs when I come closer, or about why you smile when I walk in the room." Bridget turned her head back to face Franky's gaze, serious and sincere, but inside she was a mess. She knew Franky was an outrageous flirt and no doubt had had many, many women before, but something about the look in her eyes almost told her otherwise.

 _Get a grip!_ Bridget told herself in her head. Her eyes darted over the features of Franky's face so quickly she doubted the brunette even noticed, but she longed to press her lips against those of the woman in front of her. Instead, she backed off and made sure Franky would too back away.

"Are you trying to threaten me?" The professional, serious tone brought the psychologist back into the room and Franky slouched back to her chair, tears misting in the emerald orbs.

"I'm bored, Gidget. I'm sick of everyone and I'm sick of myself! I hate it here."

The last statement was nothing but the truth, she more than hated it. Her parole was edging closer but all she could do was wait. Bridget offered the smallest of sympathetic smiles, hardly a consolation but it was all she had to give.

"I know."

Franky could barely look at Bridget, so she sighed loudly and looked away. She was beyond boredom and pushing Bridget's buttons seemed fun at first, but fuck, she actually  _liked_  this woman! She couldn't use her as her entertainment, not when she was starting to care.


	3. Connection

**Connection**

_/kəˈnɛkʃ(ə)n/_

_noun_

_a relationship in which a person or thing is linked or associated with something else._

 

It was March 17th, 2018, and Franky had just walked out of the gates of the place she had called home this past year; she had finally found the evidence that removed all trace of her involvement in Mike Pennisi's death, and Tina had confessed to lying about Franky killing Iman. Sure, she had to serve 6 months extra for actually breaking out of the prison, but she was now a free woman. Miss Bennett had escorted her out of the building for what they both hoped would be the very last time.

"I mean it Franky, I do not want to see your face ever again, in the nicest way possible!"

"Don't worry Miss Bennett, I never plan on coming back to this place again, mark my words!" Franky grinned at the Governer. Vera offered a small, genuine smile back to the brunette.

"Are you sure there is no one to call to meet you?" They both knew who Vera was referring to.

Franky shook her head. "Nuh, I'd prefer to walk out of here alone.' She thanked the Governor sincerely and turned on her heels, desperate to leave the grounds of the prison. She had a long walk ahead of her, but she knew exactly where she was headed.

She hadn't seen Bridget since the trial; Franky was exonerated just over 6 months ago but was ordered to serve the rest of the time due to her little escape plan. Franky promised Bridget she would come and find her as soon as she was out, explaining that she needed to process the rest of her time by herself. Keep her head down, no distractions. They were soul mates, bound together by the deepest love, their hearts always connected. If they were really meant to be, it would work out, Franky told herself.

The walk to Bridget's was a little over an hour, and she was not expecting Franky. She knew roughly when she was due to be released, but Franky had sworn Vera to secrecy to not tell her friend. She prayed the blonde would be home, the long walk both calming her nerves and wearing her out. But as she reached the front steps of the house she had so many happy times in, her heart began to hammer beneath her ribs, and she felt an urge to cry. What if, after everything, Bridget couldn't do this anymore? Franky wouldn't blame her, but it would fucking  _kill her_ inside. She had put the psychologist through the deepest realms of hell these past few months, pulling and pushing at her both mentally and physically. Bridget had promised her a future, but it  _was_ the future now, and it would take a lot to get them back to where they were before this nightmare had consumed them both.

Pursing her lips together, Franky rang the doorbell and waited. She shifted uncomfortably on her feet and adjusted the stray locks of hair as she held her breath. It felt like an eternity, but she could finally see Bridget's frame walk towards the door.

"Hey, Gidget," Franky offered out a small grin, her heart soaring at the woman in front of her. It was a Saturday, Bridget's day off, and she was dressed down in black leggings and a charcoal grey oversized shirt, Franky's as a matter of fact. Her cropped hair had grown slightly longer and tendrils brushed over her face. It was possibly the most beautiful sight Franky had ever seen.

"Your out," she managed to choke back, and both stood motionless for seconds. Tears pooled in Bridget's eyes and she eventually reached out for the brunette stood in front of her. Franky let out a choked sob as she gravitated towards the open arms, the attraction magnetic. They both cried as they held each other, not quite ready to let go.

"I'm sorry," Franky whispered into Bridget's neck, the area tear-stained. Bridget released Franky from her hold and placed her hands on her face, her thumb wiping the tears away the best she could. Franky closed her eyes, the feeling of Bridget's soft hands caressing her face just heavenly, and more than she currently deserved.

"It's going to be ok," Bridget said softly. She felt Franky's fear, as well as her regret and shame. But she loved the brunette with every fucking thing that she had. Franky consumed her, Franky dominated every avenue of her life. She was sure if she ever lost her for good, she would die. A short while ago she would have scoffed if anyone would have suggested a love that deep, but now she knew what her clients meant when they said they couldn't go on without the person they longed for.

Franky placed her hand on top of Bridget's, removed it gently and kissed it. "I can never repay you for everything you've done, for what I've put you through. I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you, I promise." Fresh tears cascaded down her face as she stared into those blue eyes.

"Shhh, baby," Bridget whispered. "You're home now, it's all going to work out, but you are home."

The lovers rested their foreheads against one another's and stood there for a moment or two. They had been broken apart, pushed and pulled in all directions; they had endured the toughest of separations and the cruelest of heartaches. But they  _always_ found their way back to each other. It was the connection they shared, strong, deep and everlasting.


	4. Desire

**Desire**

_/dɪˈzʌɪə/_

_noun_

**_1_ ** _._ _a strong feeling of wanting to have something or wishing for something to happen._

_verb_

**_1_ ** _._ _strongly wish for or want (something)._

 

Green eyes. Raven hair. Lean stature. Cheeky smile. Oh fuck, those eyes.

Bridget couldn't remember a time she had ever felt such a lust and a longing for another human being as she did for Francesca Doyle. She was attracted to her intellect and her wit, as well as gorgeous 'come to bed' emerald eyes, and it was driving her crazy!

Of course, she was the psychologist and Franky the inmate, and the fact that it would be so wrong also made it excruciatingly right. She longed to take the brunette into her arms and kiss her, to make her shiver and call out her name. But it couldn't happen. Bridget would no doubt end up in jail if they were found out, and Franky was due for parole in a matter of weeks - she couldn't mess that up for her.

But she couldn't stop thinking about her. So Bridget went where she had never been before - she decided to test the waters.

Franky was due a counseling session later on today, the dynamic of their relationship already changed from that of inmate-therapist to that of a flirtation. This sort of behaviour was so uncharacteristically  _not_  Bridget, but it thrilled her, she had to admit. She had feelings for the tattooed beauty.

The knock on her office door indicated that Franky was here for her session and she called to Fletch to let her in and close the door behind them. The blinds were drawn, and as Franky sat down, Bridget got up, walked slowly over to the office door and locked it slowly. She looked at the brunette, neither saying a word. It was Franky who broke the silence first.

"Gidge... what ya doin'?" Franky was confused but turned on by the psychologist's behaviour, her mind perplexed.

"Just getting a little more, comfy," Bridget smiled, sitting back down and crossing her legs. Her black suede heels elongated her toned legs and the leather pencil skirt clung to her in all the right ways. Franky rose from her chair and crouched down in front of the blonde, her heart thumping. She placed a hand gently on Bridget's knee, not breaking eye contact, seeing how she would respond. Bridget licked her lips and inhaled, indicating Franky could proceed. Fuck, this was so wrong on every level, she thought. But they were too far gone now. Their lips crashed against each other's and Franky moaned into Bridget's mouth, months of pent-up tension being released.

"Are you sure?" Franky panted, lips parted. She was gorgeous, Bridget thought to herself. Bridget replied by uncrossing her legs and finding Franky's lips again, her tongue invading the brunette's mouth.

Franky's hands were lost in Bridget's hair, scared to let go in case this wasn't real. Bridget noticed how gentle Franky was with her hands, despite the passion ebbing out of her kiss. One hand caressed the back of her neck, the other gently holding her head.

"Sit on your desk," Franky ordered huskily. "I'm gonna make you come like never before."

Bridget didn't need telling twice - she grabbed hold of the inmate as she maneuvered from the chair to the cold wooden surface and laughed gently. The thrill of the act had turned her on like nothing she had ever experienced, and she gasped as long fingers effortlessly pulled down her black thong, over her heels. The same fingers brushed over her opening and she let out a soft moan.

"Fuck, you're so wet," Franky whispered, gently sucking on her collarbone. Bridget moaned again as Franky caressed her clit, rubbing circles over the swollen nub. "I need to taste you, Gidge."

Franky stepped back and softly pushed Bridget backwards so she lay on her back, sprawled out on the desk. She pushed up the leather skirt and left kisses up Bridget's thighs as she navigated towards the soft spot. Franky heard Bridget inhale sharply, anticipating the upcoming bliss.

"You're gonna have to stay quiet," Franky warned, and found the soft spot which caused the psychologist to cry out.

"Oh fuck!" She exclaimed. She writhed under Franky's touch, not quite believing that this was happening. It felt amazing.  _Franky_  felt amazing. Jesus, she thought, I'm not going to last long.

Suddenly they were interrupted by an alarm blaring.

"What the..." Bridget murmured. She groaned as she silenced her alarm clock. This was the third time this week she had dreamed about Franky Doyle, and as always, she was woken right before the best bit! She checked the time - 06.15. She could afford another 10 minutes in bed. Her longing for Franky was getting out of control, but unlike her dreams, she had to keep her professionalism intact and not give her feelings away. What she did alone in bed though was an entirely different matter...


	5. Excited

**Excited**

_/ɪkˈsʌɪtɪd/_

_adjective_

**_1_ ** _._ _very enthusiastic and eager._

**_2_ ** _._ _of or in an energy state higher than the normal or ground state_

 

"C'mon Gidge!" Franky called up the stairs of their home. Well, Bridget's house technically, but  _their_  home.

"Coming, coming," Bridget called back, rushing around the upstairs hallway looking for her left nude patent high heeled shoe. For someone who appeared to have their shit together down to the T, Bridget Westfall was rather careless when it came to her footwear. She often kicked them off in random places around the house, a habit that Franky had tried to break. Franky was much more used to order and tidiness, 3 and a half years in prison to thank for that. Eyeing out Bridget's rogue shoe, she threw it up the stairs and it landed on the wooden floor with a thud.

"Baby! Those are Givenchy!"

"Yeah, well, don't leave them around the place then if they are so expensive! Are you ready?! I wanna go!"

Bridget finally rushed down the stairs, and how she didn't trip in her heels was beside Franky. The blonde could most probably run a marathon in her Louboutins! Never one to dress down, she donned black cropped tight trousers, a pastel peach blouse, and a fitted black tweed blazer. Elegant, gorgeous, my woman, Franky thought.

The couple had been together now for a little over 3 years, and it was Franky who suggested they buy a place of their very own. She always felt at home with Bridget, but that was Bridget's house, and Franky had worked damn hard to save all her spare cash towards a house deposit. Of course, she had nothing to prove to the woman who had saved her, but part of her wanted to show Bridget that she was serious and that she envisaged being with her forever.

Having scoured the internet for a few weeks, they found a property meeting all of their requirements - large, airy downstairs area, 3 good sized bedrooms, a garden and of course, a big kitchen. The house, from the photos on the website, looked like a dream, and Franky was itching with excitement to take a look at somewhere that could potentially be their forever home.

When they pulled up to the house, Franky smiled. There was a driveway big enough for both their cars, as well as a large lawn, and the front path led to a black front door, with '6' on it in silver numbering.

"So far, so good Gidge," Franky smiled. She turned her Golf off both women left the car and walked towards the estate agent waiting for them in front of the door, like in a magazine advert.

"Nice to meet you both, I'm Robert," he said, shaking each woman's hand in turn. He flashed a toothy smile at them both;  _Typical estate agent,_ Franky thought to herself. He led them into a large hallway, accentuated by the natural lighting. Bridget's heels click-clacked on the mahogany flooring and Franky pictured her fiancee coming home each evening and kicking off her shoes in the living room. She smiled to herself at the thought.

"Great sized hallway leading to the first of the reception rooms," Robert gushed, the big smile plastered on his face still. "I think it's got such a homely feel to it, don't you?"

"Yeah, it's great," Franky began. "Don't take this the wrong way mate, but would it be alright if Bridget and I just wandered around on our own? You know, get a real feel for the place and that."

Robert lifted his hands as if to say 'be my guest'. Franky grabbed Bridget's left hand and led the way; there was only one room in the house she was dying to see. And it didn't disappoint - the kitchen was the star of the show, just gorgeous! Huge and open plan, a central island was the dominating feature. It was brand new and just to Franky's taste, as if it were made for her. Bridget watched Franky inspect the area in meticulous detail, opening cupboards, looking at the built-in, brand new appliances, and just admiring the space.

"You like it, huh?"

"It's perfect Gidget!" The kitchen led into a dining area which boasted large, modern French windows leading towards the garden, also generously sized. "I love it, it's the kitchen of my dreams! I want it!" Franky laughed and spun around, almost childlike, but in pure happiness.

Bridget laughed softly, her heart melting at Franky's adoration for the place. "We haven't even seen upstairs yet, the bedrooms might be a letdown baby." But she knew already that this place would be 'the one'. The couple kicked off their shoes and padded up the plush carpet to inspect the upstairs area. There was a huge master bedroom with an ensuite boasting both a bath  _and_  a walk-in tiled shower, plus another two good sized rooms, as well as a second bathroom and separate toilet. The master bedroom looked out towards the front of the house, and the view of the beach a couple of miles away was clear. The house was very recently built, which meant minimal work needed to be done to it before the couple could move in.

"You know, if someone had said to me 10 years ago I would be in a position even as close to what I am now, being able to put down a payment on a house like this, I would have told them to get fuckin' real and fuck off!" Franky laughed, but Bridget could see her eyes misting over. The life Franky had was a life away from how she had grown up and spent her early adult years, but it went deeper than just being able to finally afford small luxuries. She had security, she had love, and she didn't see the world as an evil place anymore. "I really fucking love this house, Gidge."

Bridget took both of her woman's hands in her own, fingers linked. "And I really fuckin' love this house too, baby. Let's go and make an offer."

Franky beamed at Bridget, a smile bigger than the moon. She had never been so excited as she was now, about to buy a home with the love of her life, living her best life, living the dream. She pulled the smaller woman close and enveloped her in a large hug, her heart beating fast from the joy. "And I really fucking love you, too!"


	6. Fear

**Fear**

/fɪə/

_noun_

_**1**. an unpleasant emotion caused by the threat of danger, pain, or harm._

_verb_

_**1**. be afraid of (someone or something) as likely to be dangerous, painful, or harmful._

 

Bridget had felt real fear on only two occasions in her life: when she was assaulted in university, and when Franky was standing there, in front of Life Solutions.

"I love you! And I'll be back!"

She watched the brunette tear off into the night; just like that, she was gone. Bridget climbed into her car and locked the doors, drove to the nearest side road and cried her heart out for what felt like an eternity. She knew that this would only end in heartache – Franky's capture, or her death. From the moment she entered her life, Bridget had become consumed in the whirlwind that was Franky Doyle and she was terrified as to how this would all play out.

As predicted, the barrage of calls from Vera came. Bridget ignored the first 2 calls, physically unable to speak. When she finally answered, she blamed a stint in the shower for not hearing her phone. After all, she knew exactly what Vera would say to her.

"Have you seen her?"

"Seen who?" Bridget asked, her heart hammering in her chest. "Are you alright, Vera?"

"Doyle. Franky. Have you seen her?"

"What do you mean? Is everything ok? What has she done?"

There were a few seconds of silence before Vera spoke again. "She's escaped. Broken out of the prison."

Bridget swallowed, praying her secondary school drama classes would finally come in handy. "What…what do you mean?"

"Out the fucking garden project! Her and Furguson are missing and it's all happened through the garden project. I'm sorry, I just thought she might have come to you. But she's smarter than that, I should have known."

"Fucking hell Vera," Bridget cringed at how convincing she was. "Shit. Shit shit shit! Please, let me know if you hear anything?"

As awful as Bridget felt for lying to someone she considered a friend, Franky would  _always_  come first and she would move heaven and earth to keep her safe.

She didn't sleep that night. All that played over and over in her head was the image of her girl standing there. Sure, they had broken up, but their hearts would always belong to one another, no matter what happened. Bridget had wept through most of the night too, and when the sun began to rise, she decided to ring Vera to keep up appearances.

Of course, the news of the escape was all over the news by now and the fear and trepidation became too much to bare and Bridget heaved into the toilet, her body shaking.  _Oh Franky, I hope you find what you are looking for,_  she thought to herself. She just wished there was something she could do to help.

4 days had passed since news broke of the escape, and Bridget had to leave her house momentarily to buy food. She had called in sick to work, blaming a bad case of gastric flu, and spent the days in her home, waiting for some sort of a sign from Franky. It was dark when Bridget returned home, a plastic bag in her hand containing milk, eggs, bread, tuna, mint ice cream and 3 bottles of red wine, and she made a beeline straight for the kitchen to put away the groceries and open the wine, minus the glass.

She failed to notice in the dark, but there stood Franky Doyle. The blonde gasped when she saw the silhouette of the brunette; she could make her out from a million miles away if she had to. Bridget managed to choke out "you fucking idiot", before being pulled into the arms of her fugitive lover. She clutched onto Franky, loud sobs leaving her body. Franky too was crying, her arms tightly wrapped around Bridget, inhaling her scent.

"What are you doing Franky?" Bridget exclaimed. "You shouldn't be here, this is the first place they would look."

"I had to see ya," she replied, her green eyes misted with tears. "Fuck it, I needed to hold you, just in case."

"Just in case nothing!" Bridget said quickly. "Please tell me you've found something, anything?"

Franky broke away from the embrace and ran her fingers through her raven locks. "Shane has been helping me, I'm hiding out over at his place. We think we're onto something, I'm gonna be free Gidge, just give me some time, yeah?"

Bridget wiped her eyes and Franky wrapped her arms back around her. "Oh God, Gidge, all I think about is you. You are what keeps me going, you are my rock, please tell me you haven't given up on us."

Bridget took Franky's face in her hands and kissed her. She melted as their lips met, the feeling of security washing over her. "I'll never give up. I promise. But you can't be here, it's too dangerous, baby."

Franky nodded, silent tears falling from her emerald eyes. She smiled a lopsided smile and tucked a blonde lock behind Bridget's ear before kissing her tenderly.

"I love you."

And with that, Franky took off into the darkness once more, leaving behind a trail of heartache, anxiety, and fear. But if it meant she could set herself free and finally put an end to all this misery, then Bridget welcomed the fear.


	7. Grief

Grief

_/ɡriːf/_

_noun_

**_1_ ** _._ _intense sorrow, especially caused by someone's death._

**_2_ ** _._ _trouble or annoyance._

 

She was at work when she heard the news. Working on a brand new case actually, one she was excited to get her teeth stuck into. She was also hoping to finish a little earlier today - Bridget was off work for a week and Franky was loving coming home and she already being there. The green highlighter pen she was using to illustrate the key points was currently wedged in between her teeth as she stapled bits of paper together; Franky had a bad habit of losing sheets of paper. Her mobile rang and she saw it was her dad.

"G'day dad," she said, removing the pen from her mouth. "You alright?"

"Are you at work darl, I was thinking we could meet on your lunch break?" Her dad sounded a little jittery, and Franky wondered if something was up with Tess.

"It's 4.15 dad, I had lunch years ago! You alright? Tess?"

There was a pause. "Maybe I could come by after work, yeah?"

"Dad, what's wrong? Are you guys OK?" Franky stood up and walked to the stairwell for a little more privacy; she didn't want prying ears to eavesdrop on her conversation.

"We're both fine Franky. I don't really wanna do this over the phone, let me come by after work and we'll talk then, yeah?"

"No dad, just tell me!" She shouted. "What the fuck is goin' on?"

"It's your mother, Franky, she's died."

Franky drove home on autopilot. She honestly didn't know how to feel. She hated her mother with every fiber of her being; what her mum had done to her and how she was treated was appalling, and Franky had never ever forgiven her. But she still felt sadness. The old Franky would have bottled up her emotions, got way too drunk, probably started a fight or got into some sort of trouble. She didn't want to be that person.  _She wasn't that person anymore._ Instead, she would speak to Gidget, talk about how she felt. But what did she really feel?

She arrived home and bundled through the door, hands full with her bag, laptop, and various files. She aimlessly let them drop onto the sofa. Not even bothering to call out a 'hello' to her partner, she made a beeline straight to the kitchen and poured a stiff vodka, knocking it back in one. Bridget pondered into the kitchen as Franky was about to pour herself another.

"Hey baby," she purred, happy to see her woman home. She then noticed the vodka on the counter. "Er...tough day?"

Franky tipped her head back and swallowed another straight vodka before answering. "I spoke to dad earlier. My mother has keeled over and died." She ended with a slight laugh.

Bridget took the Grey Goose bottle and the glass out of Franky's hand and laid them on the counter top. She didn't really know how to react. Should she console Franky? Apologize for her loss? Shout 'good riddance'? Instead, she looked at her girl and could see the hurt in her eyes. Despite everything, she was Franky's mother. Bridget placed a hand gently on Franky's arm and squeezed.

"I don't really know how I should be feeling," the brunette finally said quietly.

"Well, what do you feel?" Bridget replied. "Any feeling is normal right now, baby."

Franky shrugged. "Is it bad that I feel sadness? I mean, I fucking hate the woman, I really do. But she was my mum, can't help that I was given such a shitty one, but I must have loved her at some point in my life."

"Oh baby, of course you did," Bridget began. "It's OK to feel hurt and upset. Just let it out."

She slouched against the kitchen island and put her head in her hands, exhaling loudly. "I'm just gonna go for a walk yeah Gidge? Won't be long, I just wanna take a walk."

Bridget nodded. "Take as long as you need darling."

* * *

3 hours had passed and Franky was still not back. It was dark, and there was a chill in the spring air. Bridget knew exactly where her girlfriend was and hated that she was alone, so she decided to bring her home. She jumped into her car and drove the 5 minutes down to the coast. She knew Franky's mind as well as she knew her own, and as predicted, the brunette was sat on the sand alone. She had removed her boots and rolled up the bottoms of her trousers, but they were still wet from her walk in the ocean.

Franky loved the sound of crashing waves. It was one of the things she had missed the most when she was behind bars, and now that she was out she never ever took the noise for granted again. She found the sound calming, and this was one of the very first things Bridget had learned about her. Bridget made her way across the sand to where Franky was, and sat down beside her, not saying anything. She could tell her partner had been crying; her eyes were red and her face was a little blotchy. Franky rested her head on Bridget's shoulder but stayed quiet, her eyes fixed on the crashing waves. Bridget pressed her lips against Franky's temple.

"I'm alright," Franky finally said. "I guess it just brought back all those memories, but I'm alright, really."

"I know you are," Bridget replied. "Just a bit of a shock, huh?"

"She's out of my life forever now." Franky drew shapes in the sand with her finger as she spoke. "Now, I can really just move on and forget about her. Enjoy my life with you, and if we ever have a child, do everything that she never did."

Bridget linked her arm in Franky's and shuffled closer. "Damn right baby."


	8. Heartbreak

**Heartbreak**

_/ˈhɑːtbreɪk/_

_noun_

_overwhelming distress._

 

The second Franky entered Bridget's office, she could sense that something was up. The vibe was off; the air was thick with unsaid words; Bridget was packing a cardboard box. Again.

"What's going on? What ya doin'?" Franky asked

Bridget picked up a cactus and put it into the box. "I resigned."

"Nuh. No fuckin' way!" Franky's eyes were wide and she slowly paced towards Bridget. She knew what this meant and she couldn't handle it. Not now, not ever.

"I can't be here anymore."

The brunette stood close to her, their faces almost touching. Franky tried to keep the calm in her voice and gave a sorry smile. "I swear, there's nothin' going on between Allie and I."

"I don't care about Allie. I care about you! And I fell really fucking hard, and I can't deal with this. I can't be here and not be with you anymore." Bridget choked on her last word and her eyes misted over; Franky could see the anguish and pain on her face as she spoke. She also looked like she hadn't slept in a thousand days, and she knew it was because of her. But she couldn't let her go, especially not now. She loved her,  _oh God, how she loved her,_  and she needed her close more than ever, even if her previous actions didn't exactly show it.

"Give me some and I can fix that!" The brunette exclaimed, desperation in her voice.  _Don't leave me, Gidge, please don't leave me._ Bridget looked at her, her heart broken but still full of joy at the vision that was Franky.

"How you gonna do that?"

"I dunno, just don't leave me." The small smile on Franky's face was meant to show hope, but instead, Bridget saw it as a defeat.

"All I think day and night, is you."

"So stay!" Franky cupped Bridget's face and chuckled softly. "Don't give up on us."  _Please, Gidge, i'll beg if I have to._

"I can't even see myself." The blonde let herself touch Franky's face for the briefest of seconds before letting go and walking away. She picked up her box of possessions, for the second time, because of Franky, and made her way to the door of her office. The urge to not break down and cry was being held at bay for Franky's sake, and she was fighting even harder not to drop the cardborad box and wrap her arms around the woman she was so in love with, telling her it was all going to be alright, that they were going to be alright. But it wasn't, and nor were they.  _I'm doing the right thing,_ Bridget said over and over and over, trying to convince herself.

"So, that's it?" Franky couldn't believe Bridget was actually leaving her. Well, she could, but it really, really fucking hurt. "I fucking love you!"

"And I fucking love you too," came the raspy reply, her voice breaking. "Bye, Franky."

"We're not done!"

Franky must have been alone in the room for about 5 minutes before Ms. Miles escorted her back to the block. She felt numb, but also on fire. Her heart was racing and all she could see in her mind was those blue eyes, and that beautiful soft face framed by short blonde hair. She made her way to Allie's cell, her heart heavy and eyes wet. She looked at the blonde inmate, but all she saw was Gidge. Grabbing Allie, she started kissing her, pushing her back on the bed and wrestling with the teal bottoms.

"What? Let's do this." No emotion, no passion, just a simple fuck to get herself off with the psychologist in her mind. The pair kissed ferociously; Franky picturing Bridget, and Allie seeing Bea. It wasn't passionate, it wasn't meaningful, it was just a distraction. Suddenly, Allie froze, not able to continue.

"Wait, wait," she began, Bea's flame hair and chestnut eyes in the forefront of her mind. "I can't, it's too soon."

Franky was suddenly transported to the reality of the situation and got off the blonde. "Yeah, I know. Just forget about it."

She charged back to her cell, slammed the door and let the tears fall freely, sobbing in the corner of the small cell. It really was the end of it, and it  _fucking hurt._ Franky didn't think she'd ever felt emotional pain like this, and she was the cause of it. She had finally got what she wanted, Bridget away from her.

Be careful what you wish for.

Bridget pulled out of Wentworth's staff car park for the last time, her heart like lead. She felt sick, but she tried to hold it together, at least until she had made it home. It was only when she pulled intot he front drive she let the tears come, and the wailing of a woman who loved so hard, but had lost it all.


	9. Insecurity

**Insecurity**

_/ˌɪnsɪˈkjɔːrɪti,ˌɪnsɪˈkjʊərɪti/_

_noun_

_**1**._

_uncertainty or anxiety about oneself; lack of confidence._

_**2**._

_the state of being open to danger or threat; lack of protection._

 

Franky's green eyes fluttered open and she stretched outwardly in the king size bed she had woken in. She rolled over and expected to be met with the warm, snoozing body of her wife, but instead the bed was empty.  _That's weird,_  she thought. Bridget was not a morning person, especially on a Saturday, much preferring morning snuggles with Franky instead of waking up before 10am. But it was 8.37am, and she was out of bed, showered, if her damp blonde hair was anything to go by, staring at herself in the large mirror at the other end of their room. Franky watched her for a moment, observing how Bridget turned and inspected herself from different angles. She was dressed in a white bra and knicker set and looked good enough to eat, Franky thought.

"Mmmm, are you trying to wind me up, beautiful?" Franky teased, her voice still thick with sleep. Bridget didn't reply immediately, pausing before she did.

"When did I get so old?"

"Come again?" Franky said. "Are you sleepwalking?!"

Bridget huffed and turned around to face her wife. "It's not funny! I'm really starting to look my age now babe, i'll be 50 next year and don't I look it!"

Franky scoffed. Bridget was mad to think she was old! For a 49-year-old, she was in tip-top shape, and she could easily pass for a 40-year-old, if not younger.

"What's got into you Gidge?" Franky asked. "Can you come back to bed, please? I'd really like to get you out of that set your wearing!"

Bridget ignored her lover's request and sighed. "You're 12 years younger than me, Franky, and it's really starting to show. Don't act like someone younger has never turned your head before, not when you're with someone as old as I am."

Franky shuffled to the foot of the bed, nothing on her but an oversized grey tee shirt. "What's this about Gidget? Really?" She stood up and gently wrapped her arms around her wife's waist and pulled her down onto the bed next to her. She didn't see a 49-year-old woman, just a woman she loved with all her heart; the woman she had vowed to spend all eternity with.

"Are you still attracted to me?"

Franky smiled softly and tucked a damp, wavy blonde lock behind Bridget's ear. "You wanna know what I see when I see you? I see my life. My future. I see a woman who opened me up and taught me how to trust, and love, a woman who prodded and poked until I let my guard down, and still never gave up. I see the best arse and legs I've ever seen, and eyes so blue I feel like I'm looking into the ocean. I see your intelligence and your zest for life and fuck me, that's so sexy, Gidget, it really is." Franky's eyes sparkled as she carried on speaking to her wife, her favourite topic.

"I see your heart and soul and I feel like I can conquer anything in the world when I'm with you. I crave every single part of you, every fuckin' day, I married you didn't I? You. I wanted to be with you every single day forever. The day I slipped that diamond onto your finger when we were lying on Bondi Beach was a promise that it's only you for the rest of my life. Attraction isn't just about how you look, but fuck me Gidge, if it was, you had me from day one. I will crave you, and only you forever, how can I not?" Franky pressed her lips against Bridget's and began to gently kiss her, so soft it made the blonde whimper. Tears fell from the blue eyes and Franky caught them with her lips, kissing them away.

"I promise you, I want, I need every part of you just as much as when we first met, if not more. You're so beautiful Gidget, so fucking beautiful, your body and your soul, and I love you."


	10. Jealousy

**Jealousy**

/ˈdʒɛləsi/

1\. jealous resentment against a rival, a person enjoying success or advantage, etc., or against another's success or advantage itself.

2\. mental uneasiness from suspicion or fear of rivalry, unfaithfulness,etc., as in love or aims.

3\. vigilance in maintaining or guarding something

* * *

 

Franky sat in the back of the taxi, her arms folded and a frown on her brow. She looked out of the window at the late night Melbourne sky, too angry to even acknowledge her partner sitting next to her. Bridget had a more relaxed demeanor, head rested on the back of the leather seat. When the cab pulled up outside Bridget's house, Franky was reluctant to get out, her annoyance too much to bear right now, but she clambered out anyway, shutting the door behind her a little too heavy-handedly. Bridget fumbled in her clutch for her house keys and let herself in, not bothering to hold the door for her partner. She kicked off her nude high heels and patterned towards the kitchen, pouring a glass of fresh orange from the fridge.

"I think I'm gonna go to bed, I'm a little hazy from all the cocktails I've had. Try not to wake me when you come up, darling," she said to Franky, emphasizing the word 'darling'.

Franky scoffed. "Why are you being such an arse?" She asked. "I've not done anything wrong and you're acting the victim!"

Bridget sighed and folded her arms. "I am not playing the victim, Franky. You caused an unnecessary scene back there for no reason, I do not like public confrontation and all that bullshit!"

"A scene?!" Franky yelled. "You practically let another woman fuckin' eat you out on the bar and you tell me I'm causing a scene?! I'm not an idiot Bridget, don't play me for one!"

"Franky, stop overreacting! If another woman shows interest in me and I tell her to back off because I have a girlfriend, I'm in the wrong how?"

"You should have seen her!" Franky cried. "She couldn't look any more desperate if she tried! And she was touching you and putting her hands all over you and shit, nuh uh. No fuckin' way, not on my girl!"

Franky exhaled and groaned out loud, angry at the whole situation. Her and Bridget were enjoying date night, one of the first actually in public; Franky's probation was due to end soon and the couple was slowly starting to enjoy being out in public together as partners, as opposed to 'friends'. They enjoyed dinner at a Thai restaurant, and then onto a bar for some drinks. It was a nice evening until Franky used the toilet and returned to some auburn haired skank trying it on with  _her_  girl. She was drunk, sure, but Franky didn't like the way she was placing her hands on Bridget. She was good looking, Franky gave her that much, and if she was honest she felt a little threatened by her.

Bridget laughed sarcastically. "Can you tell me honestly you thought I was encouraging it? Did you not hear me say I was there with my partner?"

"Yeah, but, still Gidge. I don't like that shit and she had her hands all over you, and it's fuckin' disrespectful even after you told her no!" Franky huffed like a child. She was always used to having the upper hand, used to being the desired one, and she had never been with a woman like Bridget before. Classy, confident, assertive and god damn beautiful. And it made her feel inferior, like she wasn't worthy.

"Do you trust me, Franky?"

"Yeah, course I do."

"Then what's the problem?" Bridget had gone from berating her girlfriend to trying to understand her.

"The problem is Gidge that I don't want another chick rubbing up on my girl. What if one day you like it? You prefer her?"

Bridget sighed. When would Franky understand she chose her? "If I preferred her I would have told you. Is it not enough I risked my career to be with you? When are you going to realise it's you?"

"I was jealous, alright?" Franky admitted. "She looked more your type than I am, she had a dress on and looked all prim and proper, like she had her shit together."

Bridget walked across the kitchen to where her girlfriend was slumped against the counter and stood facing her. She pouted, half as a joke, half to make Franky laugh. "I thought I had a type, and then I met you. And then everything you were became my type, baby. Those beautiful tattoos, your thousand and one bracelets scattered all over my house, that cheeky smile, those green eyes. Please don't think I want something different, because I don't. But you've got to stop this Franky, you've got to believe your worthy, because you are worth everything."

The brunette teared up and laughed simultaneously. "I'm sorry Gidget, I just get scared, that's all. I've never been so happy and I feel like it's all gonna come crashing down and bite me on the arse. And when I saw that chick all over you, it scared me, I guess." Franky shrugged.

Bridget wrapped her arms around her lover and pressed her lips to her forehead. They swayed for a minute, lost in the moment until Franky broke the silence. "So, I guess you're not mad anymore, does this mean I can do things to you with my mouth that no one else can?!"

The blonde laughed and left a lingering kiss on Franky's lips, nipping the bottom one with her teeth. "Oh yea baby, you can do exactly that..."


	11. Kanurd

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ohhhh my heart!! What an episode 6x03 was, I'm actually still crying (happy tears obvs)! I won't post a spoiler for those who haven't seen it, but I will never get over it. Phenomenal work by Libby Tanner, she was absolutely incredible in that episode - so raw, so genuine, just amazing! I need me a Bridget!

**Kanurd**

_/Kanurd/_

_Victorian back-slang for 'drunk'_

* * *

Today marked the 3rd anniversary of Franky and Bridget's relationship. Three difficult, happy, agonising but loving years. The weight of the world was placed on them more than once but their utter devotion to each other made them stronger. The last year had been the most difficult by far, with Franky's journey to find her freedom almost ripping them apart, but Bridget's selfless, unconditional love was the glue that held them together. She had proved on more than one occasion, even willing to serve 10 years to protect her girl, that Franky was her absolute one, and now they were both free to live their lives together happily, that is exactly what they were doing.

Neither woman wanted to make a big fuss for their anniversary, but it was Franky who suggested they head out to a nice bar, drink and dance the evening away and return home for some drunken love-making. As long as they were together, nothing else mattered. So that's exactly what they had planned. It was 9.30pm and both women were almost ready. Well, Franky had been ready long before her fiancee, as usual. She donned black leather jeans so tight that they looked like they had been painted on, a white low cut tee-shirt and an array of black and silver bracelets which adorned her wrists. Simple, her usual style, but a look which her partner loved. Bored of waiting for Bridget, she flounced up the stairs in an attempt to hurry her up. Bridget was sat at her dresser, putting a small pair of diamond studs into her ear lobes.

"Gidget, you look amazing but I need a drink now!" Franky flopped down on their bed and tapped her foot against the side.

"I'm done baby, i'm done," she replied, a couple of squirts of perfume completing her outfit. "How do I look?!"

"Like the most beautiful woman in the world," Franky smiled, and stood up to wrap her arms around Bridget. She was wearing dark blue skinny jeans, a white chiffon blouse with small embroidered flowers across the shoulders, and nude heeled pumps. Bridget was never without a pair of heels and even when she had broken her leg she was itching to get back into her favorite shoes. Franky pressed her lips to her lover's forehead and left a soft, lingering kiss there. "Have I ever told you how much I love you?"

"You may have mentioned it!" Bridget winked. She ruffled her shoulder length hair with her fingertips. "Let's get an Uber and get out of here!"

They had arrived at Vogue, an upmarket trendy bar in the heart of the city, and taking Bridget's hand, Franky weaved her way through the already-busy crowd and straight to the bar. Her girl was always a wine drinker, but Franky preferred something a little stronger, so she placed an order for a large glass of red wine and a double vodka and cranberry.

"Cheers Gidge," Franky said, a small toast to the pair. "Happy anniversary, I love you endless amounts."

"Happy anniversary, baby," Bridget smiled. "Our third one of a lifetime of celebrations to come."

"Yeah, you're stuck with me now!" Franky took a sip of her drink, enjoying the slight burn of the vodka. "I know I say it often, but I'll never be able to repay you for what you've done for me, especially the last year. You risked everything to help me Gidge, for that I owe you my life."

Franky would never forget Bridget's actions while she was on the run. She literally risked her life, her freedom, her integrity, everything she had to help her woman clear her name. Their love was unconditional, and they shared a bond that could never be torn apart. 

"And I'd do it all over again because I love you. My love for you knows no limits babe."

"Can't I just fuckin' marry ya right now?!"

The couple laughed. "Anyway, we need to get on the shots, drink up Gidget!"

Two hours and several shots, and other drinks later, both Franky and Bridget were well on their way to being drunk. Both women could hold their alcohol, but neither appreciated the hangover the next day.

"Gidge, I still can't believe you're trying to out-drink me!" Franky exclaimed. "You're so cute!" She squished Bridget's cheeks together in affection, laughing loudly.

"Errr baby, do you remember that time at Vera's birthday when you and Will had a drink off and it resulted in you vomiting all over her sofa and then passing out?"

"Fuck off, I drank more than he did even if it all came back up!" Franky flicked some vodka and soda at Bridget with her straw, drunkenly giggling as it splashed on Bridget's face.

"Oh dear, two can play that game!" Bridget smirked, dipping a finger into her glass of rose and poking Franky in the ear. Franky winced.

"Fuckin' gross!" She exclaimed, jumping from her chair and making her way over to Bridget. "For someone as classy as you, you don't half act like a dirty bird at times!" She kissed Bridget on the lips, then nipped at the bottom lip with her teeth. "Can we get out of here Gidge?"

Bridget wrapped her arms around Franky holding her close to her. "Mmmm, so you can act even dirtier with me?! Let's go, darling." The blonde jumped off her bar stool and wobbled, a little unsteady on her feet thanks to the several glasses of wine and tequila shots she had consumed over the evening.

"Steady on!" Franky exclaimed. "Thought you could hold your drink, eh?"

"I'm in heels!" Bridget remarked, straightening up. She then dropped her phone on the floor and Franky giggled before picking it up. Bridget laughed along with her fiancee, the alcohol making everything ten times more hilarious to the both of them.

"Come on, my little alchy," Franky said, taking her hand. Bridget huffed a little, not enjoying her partner's drunk teasing.

"Slow down my feet hurt," she grumbled. "I thought the Uber was coming?"

"It was taking too long so I canceled. Let's just walk, it's like, not even that far Gidge!"

Bridget groaned in frustration wishing she had another drink to try and numb the pain in the balls of her feet. "Francesca Doyle, tomorrow morning you are giving me a full on foot rub, I want the champagne treatment!"

"I'll be rubbin' a lot more than your feet, Gidget," Franky winked. "Come, jump on my back."

Bridget didn't need to be told twice and the couple laughed hysterically as Bridget jumped onto her partner, Franky trying to keep her footing. She stumbled and almost took a tumble, but straightened out and began the walk home, her precious cargo on her back.

"Where to Madame?" She asked, feigning a French accent, hoisting the blonde up.

"Anywhere that you are, that's where I'll always want to go."


	12. Lonliness

**Lonliness**

_/ˈləʊnlɪnɪs/_

_1\. affected with, characterized by, or causing a depressing feeling of being alone; lonesome._

_2\. destitute of sympathetic or friendly companionship, intercourse, support, etc._

* * *

By day, Francesca Doyle was exactly how she was remembered; it was like she had never left. She didn't put up with shit from anyone, especially not Joan fucking Fergerson, and she swanned around the prison just like any other inmate, poking her tongue out, flirting with the cute ones and making others aware of her presence.

By night, she was lost.

She managed to (with great difficulty) push the blonde out of her mind for 4 nights upon her return to Costa del Wentworth, thinking of anything and everything in the darkness, but on the 4th night, she couldn't outrun her mind or her heart any longer. Bridget invaded her every sense and it was choking her.

It was a survival tactic, to not allow her heart to rule her head. The longer she kept Gidge out of her head, the easier and the quicker her time would be.

But tonight she had caved, and  _oh fucking hell,_  it hurt. It ripped at her heart and she couldn't make the pain stop. The image of the person she loved more than her freedom itself was etched into her soul and it was only a matter of time before she could outrun the thoughts of her.

As she lay in the darkness on the thin single mattress she felt a million miles away from the life she had enjoyed so much. Wrongly accused, she was left fighting for her future, grasping at straws, and she had never felt more alone.

It wasn't long before the tears came and she wept silently into the pillow, Bridget in her mind and heavy on her heart.

_Oh Gidget, I'm sorry. I miss you. I love you. I'm lonely. I'm sorry. Don't leave me. Help me. I'm sorry._

It was so unfair, she had thought a million times. She didn't deserve to be here, not this time. She did her crime and paid with 5 years of her life. But this was different. She was facing a murder charge for nothing. And she had let Bridget down.

She pulled the thin blanket over her body and curled into a ball, sobbing quietly. She missed her best friend, her better half so fuckin' much and had never felt more alone in her life. When she was younger she welcomed the isolation and the lack of meaningful relationships in her life. It was now she survived. But now she was older, more trusting, she gave her heart to another and she never felt more lonely than she did now. This is why she didn't let Bridget cross her mind at nighttime, the pain too much to bear.

* * *

By day, Bridget Westfall was 'Forensic Psychologist'; calm, collected; a beacon of hope. She helped vulnerable women, she supported her staff. She had a high heeled spring in her step, clad in her fashionable attire, looking like she had her shit very much together.

By night, she was a mess.

Bridget couldn't sleep. She hasn't slept in 4 nights, the endless hours agonising as she tossed and turned. She didn't - no, couldn't - think of anything but Franky and it was killing her.

Her soul. Franky was her soul.

The woman who had fought so hard for the good life she had now. And damn, it hurt like no other to have her back in the shitheap for something you  _know_  she didn't do.

Bridget's bedroom was a mess. There were 6 empty bottles of red wine on the dresser, one of them having fallen onto the grey carpeted floor leaving behind drops of crimson, clothes strewn on the floor with little care, and Franky's pyjamas still lying crumpled on the ensuite tiles which Bridget couldn't bear to move. She figured if they were there for long enough then she had to come back soon, right?

The psychologist lay on her partner's side of the bed, wearing one of her long sleeve grey tops, the sleeves pulled over her small fists and up by her face so she could inhale the vanilla and musky smell that was Franky. Tears pooled in her blue eyes and spilled down her cheeks, loud sobs heaving from her body. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fucking fair! She coughed and spluttered as the tears refused to subside, a tidal wave of agony engulfing her.

_Hang in there, baby. I'll get to the bottom of this. Together. I love you. Don't give up. I've got you. Forever. I'll wait. Forever._

It was agony watching her girl at Wentworth. She knew Franky had built her walls and the tough girl bravado was to protect herself, even directed towards Bridget, and as she lay in bed, alone, the blonde wished more than anything she had the answers. "Oh Franky," she sobbed. "Come home to me, baby."

She missed her girl so much that it was a physical ache in her chest, a nauseating feeling in the pit of her stomach. Bridget had never experienced loneliness and longing like this before. But for now she would have to work this out on her own, and leave her aching heart at home each morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your lovely comments/kudos :)


End file.
